Of love and hate

"Tell me Xavier, how is it that you are not a politician?
"I find no need to use subversion to succeed in my Requiem. To confuse my personal agenda with the greater goal is a mistake."
"That is why you are so loved by so many... and hated by so many more. You are incorruptible."
The words of my sister, Roxanne, rang deep within me with a resonance I could not shake.

You will be disappointed to find that my words this evening are not a synopsis of our last court... if such an event could conceivably bear that moniker. I have found my Requiem to continue to grow more complex in a negative way. There is a certain loss of control, a loss of security that comes with knowing your place in society, and more importantly, among those who are close to you.

On a somewhat tangential note: I have turned a substantial amount of my attention away from local affairs, toward the betterment of our covenant through heavy investment in The Munificent Society of the Scarlet Aegis. I am met with praise for the pursuit of this project, which is largely considered a noble cause. Nonetheless I face a series of problems. The kindred condition demands a certain degree of selfishness. We are territorial creatures who first ask "what is in it for me?" before we fathom to think "what can I do to better myself through the betterment of our society?". It is a problem I had not taken into account, which will cost me a great deal more attention to ensure that the Aegis succeeds. I note this largely to show my priorities, but also to preface issues I am facing locally surrounding a sudden and inexplicable bout of chaos.

Father Sabaska of the Lancea Sanctum is dead, or is indisposed to such a degree that he is unable to attend court nor answer a summons. To aggravate the situation, no less than a month's time has passed since we sat down to celebrate our time at peace.
Now, it is my understanding that Bishop Sabaska reached out prior to his end and gave three names- Father Cade, Alder Aleksandr Murdoch, and Prince Romero Maladante. It appears as though Prince Maladante escorted Sabaska to a meeting between Alder Murdoch and Father Cade to discuss an illegitimate childe, and disappeared afterward.
Earlier this evening, I spoke to Prince Sullivan on the matter. We came to the accord that Prince Maladante was likely supernaturally compelled to obey Alder Murdoch in this scenario. Prince Sullivan informed me that she had information I was not made privy to, but that she would not be so quick to speak without having both confirmed the information as fact and the source present.
I was impressed and pleasantly surprised that Prince Sullivan did not claim what I expected her to. I firmly believed that Prince Sullivan would view the attack not as an issue amongst the lance, but rather as an attack on her Court, and thus an attack on her personally. Instead she explained to me that some time ago, she gave her word to Prince Maladante that his citizens would be treated with respect and allowed free reign to come and go to her city. Prince Maladante expressed a similar desire. The loss of Sabaska was seen not as a personal attack but rather a violation in spirit of the hospitality extended to members of our praxis. I myself am not so foolish as to believe that Father Sabaska would ever agree to participate in a duel. One of Father Sabaska's more prominent attributes was personal cowardice. He was quite vocal about avoiding a duel during the last gathering in Phoenix, where the Lance's issues were also brought into the public eye. Father Sabaska would have been much more comfortable speaking to his superiors in the hopes that they would destroy Cade for him. It is uncertain to me whether Sabaksa was forced into the ritual of recontre or if he was outright killed.
I am deeply disappointed with Prince Maladante's lack of communication with me. He once stated that should Alder Murdoch return, he would strike him dead for what he made him do while in his fealty. How is it that he can feel such rage toward this man, and then a year later not only welcome him, but toady to his personal issues. If only the rest of us had the luxury of having him grace us with his presence for every petty philosophical argument.
Alder Murdoch broke the tradition of Progeny,and got away with it. Alder Murdoch maintained his status within the city. These factors do not add up to hate, and it seems to me that Prince Maladante has become a pawn once again. What is to be done with a Prince that is unable to stand on his own two feet? What is to be done with a Prince that shows no integrity for his own word nor the principles of the Traditions? I will confront him and get to the bottom of this breach of trust. I have served him as his liege, protected his interests, and nurtured his growth as a member of the Unconquered. When will I see him do the same for his Lord? I grow tired.
I was equally perturbed by the behavior of Bishop Morgan Vaughn. She has been given an opportunity to prove herself and become something more. I see within her such potential, yet my faith in her is shaken. During mass, Bishop Vaughn casually laid across several chairs. The only component missing from an overt display of disinterest would have been for her begin filing her nails. What sort of example does she serve to her diocese? I was shocked when she attempted to kill Maladante's childe, seemingly unprovoked in the middle of a room full of witnesses. All of that progress lost. I war with myself because I care for her. Do I protect her and encourage this behavior, or allow fate to run its course? Will Maladante stand idle while Bishop Morgan undermines his very public edict? Either way... I lose.

The death of Mereni

This post is a narrative given by the Proxy ST. It is not an actual entry in his journal.

It’s been hours, and the gathered Kindred are restless. Many remain hidden from sight, watching the door warily or glancing out the windows of the home. Others lounge on couches and chairs, their weapons across their laps or leaning against a wall. The assembled vampires, here to kill an admitted diablerist, hope their prey will arrive soon.

Unexpectedly, the door opens, and in steps a man. He is slight, unassuming, and it is readily apparent to all present that he has neither the taint of the Beast nor the pall of undeath about him. In his hand is a pocket watch, and he looks up from it as he enters, almost as if he has to drag his eyes away to confront those arrayed before him. He stops, something about his body stiffening as if in fear.

Egan steps forward, a gentle smile on his face. He says only “Hello,” exerting his personality over the stranger, before the man shudders briefly, his form blurring for a moment before it races out the door behind him into the night.

Rui rushes out after him, stopping a few paces out the door, he gestures to the fleeing figure and smiles grimly as it stops, arms clutching his gut, vomiting blood black as death and reeking of evil. Rui is certain that this is their prey. The man is on his knees, and now he can be seen clearly for who he really is. His black fedora lays in the dust a few feet away, his suit rumpled as if he has been running for too long. His normally immaculate hair is out of place, falling into his face as he vomits again. This is Vertith Mereni, who called himself Adversary.

Others rush out into the night behind him, arraying to each side. Some few gasp in horror as they witness Mereni spewing forth the black blood, stained with his sin. Earl begins to circle him, pacing slowly, a flask in his hand as he watches. Rui steps forward, his weapon brought to bear, the rest giving a wide berth as he approaches to put the criminal to death. The diablerist leans toward the pocket watch, lying open in the dirt before him, and whispers something to it.

Mereni then turns his face toward Rui, a mask of anger and hatred upon it, his eyes two crimson pools. He spits blood once more as he watches his doom approach, and he utters a cryptic phrase as he grits his teeth in the semblance of a smile.

“For now we see through a glass, darkly.”

Rui shudders, and vitae begins to leak from his eyes and ears, running over his lips and spilling down his chin as it bursts forth from his nostrils. He drops his weapon, hands raising to his face, and the roar of anger from those present can be felt more than heard as they rush forward toward Mereni.

Egan reaches him first, a stake in his hand, and Mereni howls briefly as it is plunged into his back, digging toward his heart. Earl is an instant behind him, his spear suddenly thrusting down, impaling Mereni’s body. As they strike, a feeling of unsettling wrongness echos out from the staked body. The two stare down at it, waiting, watching. Mackenzie pulls Rui away from Mereni, attempting to find some way to staunch the flow of vitae. In a moment, it ceases, and she continues to hold him, as if to give comfort. At this point, Ghoren's form shifts, becoming that of a bird, and he flies through the building before disappearing into the night, carried off by the sound of beating wings.

Xavier de la Cruz steps forward, pulling a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He gazes at Mereni’s prone body, and says, “Master Mereni. I must admit when last we spoke I was clueless as to your crimes. I never thought then that this scenario would make its way into our collective requiem. Nonetheless, I made a promise to the one you love, Miss Narcissa, and I intend to fulfill that request.”

He clears his throat, unfolding the letter in his hands. He reads it without pause, and those around him wait patiently for him to finish.

My Dear Vertith,

I wept after reading your letter. I feel such guilt for having left you as I did; running off from you when needed me the most. Please forgive my cowardice. You speak of how you are falling further into your Beast, and I find myself struggling to find the right words to assure you that what you are experiencing is simply a passing phase, as it would do neither of us any good for me to provide you with what could possibly be a false sense of hope regarding things that are far beyond our control.

If fate favored us, then we would have met during our mortal lives. Instead, we must not only fear the impact our relationship would have on politics, morality, and our alignment; but also if our own descending humanity could possibly lead the other to their death. With such uncertainties, I almost envy those who can only feel shadows of what they once felt in their lives, and who can only "love" through blood bonds.

Yet, while all seems lost, remember how we have managed to love one another without having had a single taste of each other's blood. That alone defies what we know about our kind, and can give us at least some bit of hope. It is our star that though small, manages to give a small bit of light in the darkness. You are not completely lost in your Beast; for as long as you can write to me in such sorrow regarding your state, your regret shows that you are more human than you realize.

Still, it remains far too hubristic for us to think of ourselves above the fate of our kind. What is a Requiem, but one last mass for the dead? While the dirge may give the mourners momentary comfort, it cannot bring the dead back to life. Like how the dead can only be "alive" in memories, Kindred can only live through things they experienced in their lives. Therefore, we both shall wear the flower of the Locust tree, as a reminder that our love somehow managed to form beyond the grave.

While it is not safe for us to go on as we have with one another, do not think that the Flower Maiden has betrayed her Shadow Prince. Even if it feels as though all is lost, know that I love you.

Always With You,

Narcissa

Xavier looks to Mereni’s body again, hoping that the words have reached him. He smiles sadly as he reaches into his pocket again, replacing the letter there but removing a small, worn tin in its place, as he opens it, he speaks quietly.

"Master Vertith, you have taught me a lesson this evening. You wear the stains of your sins upon your clothing and yet you have managed to maintain -something- within you that is worthy of our pity. I bring you a blossom from the locust tree so that you may fulfill the wishes of your love."

He sets the blossom on Mereni’s body, then turns to walk away.

"You have become a slave to the most foul of vices. Nonetheless we are agents of Fate, and I am afraid we are not capable of judging the worthiness of your redemption. That is the purview of God alone. Good bye Master Mereni."

Those gathered step forward, and some appear as if from nowhere - including the rather prominent form of a large, growling panther - and it is only a single, terribly vicious moment before Vertith Mereni is slain. His body begins to fall to ashes quickly, as if his time on God’s earth had been extended too long. Weapons are replaced, and some turn quickly back into the house. Ghoren nods once, as if satisfied, and shapeshifts quickly, his bird form taking wing into the dark skies.

Zanovia looks to those that remain, her eyes settling on Father Damien. “You are welcome anytime. Thank you for following through. Your city should praise your bravery and your contribution to its survival.” She looks over those gathered. “The Spears in our area have suffered from apathy far too long. My hope is that this is the beginning of a new era.”

She raises her voice for a moment, speaking to all present. “Thank you, thank you all. Tonight truly proved the power of God's plan. With little hope and little to go on, we still succeeded to thwart an agent of evil.”

With that, the gathered Sanctified begin the process of cleaning up. The Adversary’s belongings are gathered, his ashes scattered. Egan glances up from the task, and asks “Is there anyone who would rather not have their name associated with the actions taken tonight?”